


Timestamp: Chapter 4.5, Nocturnal Emissions

by procrastibator



Series: Sweet Dreams [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mentions of Sam/Dean, Teen Angst, Weecest kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 09:53:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13738359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/procrastibator/pseuds/procrastibator
Summary: Sam is in love with Dean. Too bad his brother is a stubborn prick.**This Sam is too different from my original sweet Sammy. I still enjoyed writing it and writing Ruby/Sam as angsty teens so I decided to include it as a 'timestamp'. Hope you like it.





	Timestamp: Chapter 4.5, Nocturnal Emissions

Dean is stubborn prick! Sam hates him, he _hates_ him, and he hopes something bad will happen to him, hopes he catches some kind of disease from all his fucking around and everyone finds out about it and makes fun of him for being such a goddamn whore! Yeah…that’s what Sam wants. He wants Dean to suffer, and cry, and have no one to comfort him. That would be fair. That would be _justice._

Because Sam has been _miserable_ , for weeks, and Dean…he doesn’t care. He won’t hold Sam, won’t kiss his cheeks or stroke his hair and tell him it’s all going to be okay. Won’t tell Sam he loves him. Won’t let Sam…rub off on him. Fucking jerk. It’s his fault Sam feels this way, tied up in knots and wanting, yearning, God, pining for his big brother. Sam can’t stop thinking about Dean. Can’t! Dean is too beautiful to stop thinking about and Sam wants him so very badly. It hurts. It hurts so much. And there’s nothing he can do.

“Hey, weirdo, you got a light?” Sam’s thoughts of Dean are pushed to the fringes of his consciousness as the rude visitor stands directly in front of him. It’s some Goth girl and Sam figures he was bound to run into one of her type while skipping P.E.  All the delinquents like to hang out behind the handball courts, shielded from prying eyes. He doesn’t have a uniform and he’s tired of taking shit for it. He’ll be gone soon anyway.

“I don’t smoke,” he sneers and goes back to his self-flagellating thoughts of Dean.

“Well, fuck. What the hell is there to do out here besides smoke?” She sighs, white teeth worrying at her blood-red lips and cops a squat right next to Sam. Her black hoodie pulled over the holes in the kneecaps of her black jeans. When Sam doesn’t reply, aside from a judgmental huff, she takes it as an invitation for conversation. “I’m Ruby. What’s your name? ‘Less you like me calling you weirdo.” She nudges his shoulder.

“Sam,” he says tersely. “Just waiting ‘til the bell rings and I can go to my next class. You don’t have to call me anything, don’t have to talk to me.” No one really talks to Sam anyway, not unless they want something, and usually that something is to make fun of him, for his oversized clothes (Dean’s), for being skinny (all muscle, thanks), or for being the new kid who’s too smart to play stupid (unlike Dean).

“What if I _want_ to talk to you?” She laughs softly.

Sam shrugs. “Talk if you want.” He looks over at Ruby to really get a look at her. She has long dark hair and dark eyes rimmed with too much eyeliner, a face that’s caked in powder a shade too light to look natural, and lips the color of red roses about to wilt. Sam wonders who lets their seventh grade daughter go out like that. Then again, how many seventh graders smoke? She’s a freak. Sam gets that.

“You look sad. Thought I’d keep you company.” Her chipped purple fingernails tug at one of the many safety pins lining the tops of her high sneakers. Sam’s surprised to see teddy bears and glitter designs on them, less surprised the bears eyes are crossed out by black sharpie, like their supposed to dead. Sam’s lips are threatening to tilt toward a smile.

“Not sad, just kinda pissed.” Sam picks up loose pebbles with his blunt fingers and grinds them into the pavement for something to do.

Ruby rolls her eyes all the way back. “Dude, same thing. You’re either pissed because you’re sad or sad because you’re pissed, probably about something you can’t control. Parents split up?” She coaxes, somewhere between been-there-done-that and I’m-sorry.  

Sam’s smile is wan. As much as this Ruby girl wants to be a rebel, she’s just a regular teenage girl with regular teenage problems. But she’s nice, and she’s hurting, and Sam thinks maybe she can use a friend too. “Nah, nothing like that,” he says and takes note of Ruby’s slumping shoulders so he adds, “Is that what’s going on with you?”

She shrugs, nods, and hands Sam a safety pin so they can both scratch at the pavement.

“Sorry,” he says. Ruby shrugs again.

“So what’s your problem?” she mutters.

Sam sighs heavily. _Fuck it_ , he thinks. “I like someone. They don’t like me back. They’re older, and beautiful, and popular, and I’m just…not.” His attempted laugh falls flat.

“Soooo…you’re gay?” Sam sputters and glares at her with incredulity in his eyes. Ruby chuckles. “ _They_ don’t like me, _They’re_ older…sorta obvious you’re talking about a guy. No biggie, I’m down with the boy love.” She waggles her eyebrows. “Who is it? You’ve been here like two weeks.”

Sam shifts self-consciously because he doesn’t think he’s gay at all, he just…it’s _Dean._ “He doesn’t go to this school.” Ruby lets out a muffled squeal at the admission it’s a guy Sam has a crush on. “He’s in high school.”

“What? Oh. My. God.” She shuffles closer to Sam, practically glued to his side. “Tell me everything. Where the hell did you meet this high school guy? Is he even gay? Does he know you like him? Do you have a picture?”

Sam laughs, loud and genuine. He knows there are girls who swoon over guys liking other guys, but he didn’t really expect to run into one in Nebraska, or anywhere really. He decides to throw caution to the wind since they’ve got maybe a week or two, tops, before dad hauls them somewhere else, and pulls out his phone. There’s a picture of Dean taken at a county fair a few counties ago with his face contorted in bliss as he rips a piece of meat from a turkey leg. There’s barbeque sauce on his cheeks. He looks…sinfully lickable.

Ruby wastes no time in snatching Sam’s phone to get a better look. “Daaaaaaaaamn, Sam. He’s…he’s….”

“Like staring into the sun, right?” Sam smiles woefully, dimples barely peeking out.

“Yeah,” Ruby sighs. “You poor bastard.” She hands his phone back and pats him on the shoulder. “He know you like him?” She rubs his shoulder when Sam nods. “Fuck. What’d he say?”

 

_“I know it isn’t fair. I know this hurts. I know it feels like the end of the world because I feel it too. But you’re my little brother, Sammy. You deserve better than me.”_

“That I deserve better.” Sam and Ruby scoff at the same time.

“What a stupid thing to say!” Ruby replies. “I hate when people think they know what’s best for you. Like…like you’re too much of an idiot to know or something. My mom and dad tried that same crap on me and my sister when they split up. If we deserve two parents who love each other, why don’t they just fucking love each other? I mean, they _did_ , once, so how hard could it be to just fall in love again? So selfish! And they say I’m the selfish one, the one ‘lashing out’. Please. Whatever.”

“Yeah,” Sam chimes in. “It’s like they never expect you to grow up, to actually know things, _especially_ your own feelings. I started it! I think I would know if I want…if I’m ready to take things further. It’s just a damn kiss. He’s kissed lots of people, people he doesn’t even like, not like he _says_ he loves me. I just…” Sam deflates. “It’s not fair. If I deserve better…he’s the only one who can give it to me.”

There’s an epic lump in Sam’s throat all of a sudden. If he doesn’t swallow it soon, his eyes are gonna start watering and he’s gonna look like a fool in front of Ruby. And when she put her arm around him, he’s not exactly sure, but it feels kinda nice with her head on his shoulder, like he’s capable of shielding her from her troubles when it’s probably the other way around.

“Have you tried being a slut?” she whispers. Sam rears his neck back, perturbed, but he chuckles.

“No one’s a bigger slut than Dean. I can’t even compete. And besides….”

“You love him.”

“Yeah.”

“I used to be kind of a priss,” Ruby says out of nowhere. “But after my parents split up, I started wearing a lot of black, skipping class, shutting myself up in my room to blast my music. My parents get together once a week to ‘discuss their parenting strategy’. Lately…they’ve been getting along. Guess I gave them a reason to talk.”

“What’s your point?” Sam is curious.

“My point is you should get this guy’s attention by any means necessary. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want, just have to make it believable. If he thinks you’re too sweet and precious to make out with….”

“Maybe I should stop being so sweet and precious.” Sam’s voice is damn near giddy.

“Exactly,” says Ruby, just as the bell rings. “How bout we skip seventh period and go ‘make out’.” She winks at Sam with mischief. “This Bloody Red lipstick gets everywhere.”

 

**-666-**

 

Dean’s been waiting for Sam for over fifteen minutes with the Impala idling to keep the heat on. His little brother has been a total bitch lately. Ever since their…talk. He’s been pretty understanding, despite how difficult the entire situation has been on him as well. He doesn’t like to see Sammy depressed. But what can he do? It’s not like he can give him what he wants. So he’s tried to stay out his face, been going out a lot to avoid the tension and give Sam time to heal. But Sam doesn’t seem to care about that, would rather give him the silent treatment or put more effort than necessary into their sparring. He busted Dean’s lip with a bony elbow the day before. Today he’s making Dean wait. It’s pissing him off.

He’s just about to go turn off the engine and go looking for the bitch when he sees him hauling ass toward him, hoodie unzipped and hair disheveled. Sam snatches the door open and throws himself back into the seat before hastily slamming the door.

“Hey!” Dean snaps. “Watch the door.”

Sam smiles, no, he _beams_ at Dean, dimples making deep craters into his flushed pink cheeks. “Sorry, Dean,” he pants. He keeps panting. Sam’s lips are way too red, like he’s been eating cherry popsicles. The area around his mouth is too pink and as Dean stares unnecessarily close, Sam’s tongue snakes out to lick his lips before wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“What took you so long?” Dean tries to sound more irritated than curious, but he’s not sure he got it right. There are too many things about Sam that are off right now. “And what the hell is up with your hair?” He doesn’t stop himself in time and ends up smoothing down errant hairs, tucking them behind Sammy’s bright red ear.

Sam swats his hand away. He doesn’t usually do that when they’re alone. “Dean,” he admonishes, eyes fixed somewhere in the distance, back toward where he came from. There’s a little girl standing there. One of those emo girls who think it’s cool to walk around like a wannabe vampire. She waves at Sam. Dean can see the shade of her bright red lips from where he sits. Sam waves back, small lift of his hand, and he sighs. He fucking _sighs._ And then Dean sees it. The red smudge on Sam’s neck that looks like a pair of ruined lips.

Dean’s heart does this very peculiar speed up and slow down thing in his chest, throws him for a loop. He’s not sure if he’s proud, angry, happy, or devastated. So he does what he always does when he’s all fucked up inside. He smiles obnoxiously wide and makes a joke. “Guess you’re getting over your fear of clowns, eh? You joining the circus?” He wipes at the lipstick on Sam’s neck. Wants him to know he knows.

“Deeeeean,” Sam whines and blushes a deeper shade of crimson as he slaps a hand over his neck.

“Aww, Sammy.” Dean grins. “That’s my boy.” He feels like he’s been stabbed. “You gonna tell me about it, or what?”

Sam’s smile is mischievous and oddly triumphant. “Yeah…later.” He looks up at Dean from under his girlish bangs, “You don’t have plans tonight, right?”

Dean clears his throat and does his best big brother impression. “And miss out on hearing about your first hunt? Never.” He winks because it’s expected. He kinda wants to die.


End file.
